Chapter Nine #2
I pushed gently on his shoulder, guiding him to my cock. “I want to fuck your mouth.”
“God. Okay.”
“I like to watch you choke on it.”
“You’re a pervert, Oliver,” he said, with a sigh.
“Maybe.”
“Between you and Kamal, I don’t know what to do.”
“Do what you’re told, Puck.”
“Oliver,” he sighed and opened his mouth as I guided my cock between his lips.
“Good boy.”
He choked a laugh, the vibrations riding my dick, making me groan and curse. I held him steady while I thrust into his hot, wet heat, his tongue flat and broad beneath me, his gaze holding mine.
“Oh, Jesus. Puck. Puck,” I stuttered, using him to pleasure myself, remembering everything I’d seen him do for Kamal and how he’d bristled and fought but now was a pliant plaything for me.
The power I seemed to have over him was heady, and I knew he could withdraw it in an instant.
The only hold I had on him was his desire for me. But that was enough. For now.
I thrust deeper, making him choke again, and then I came hard, gripping his shoulder and emptying into his willing throat as he made the most delicious sounds.
This time, he swallowed everything.
Finally, he pulled off and licked his lips, giving me the most lascivious grin as his hand drifted down to grab his erection.
“Mmm. So good,” I hummed.
I stared down at him as he lazily stroked himself, while I caught my breath and relished the quiet privacy of the bunkhouse.
I glanced at the door and then back at Puck. “How much time you think we have?”
He glanced at the door, too, and shrugged. “Maybe half an hour? If we’re lucky.”
I nodded. I knew what I wanted.
“Get up and sit on the bunk.”
He cocked his head. “My, you get bossy when a boy lets you fuck his mouth.”
I gave a soft laugh and offered my hand to help him. “I like being bossy with you.”
“I noticed.”
Puck sat his bare ass on the bunk and leaned back, propping himself on one hand while he teased himself with the other and gazed up at me.
“What do you want, Oliver?”
I didn’t answer, simply tucked myself away and dropped to my knees, sliding my hands along his thighs and over his hips as I leaned toward his dick.
He grinned, aiming it at me with his eyebrows arched. “This?” he whispered.
“Yeah.”
“You mean I don’t have to do it myself?”
“Nope.”
He smiled, increasing the rhythm of his strokes as I bent forward and kissed his dick softly on its glistening head.
Puck whimpered and his breath hitched again. “Oliver…”
I met his gaze and opened my mouth, engulfing his cock and swirling my tongue over it.
“Oh! Fuck,” he groaned, lowering his hand and leaning back on both arms now as he gave himself up to me. “Oh, God.”
His hips moved unconsciously forward.
I wrapped my fingers around the base of his dick, holding it firmly as I used my tongue and jaw to force the most erotic, soul-destroying sounds from him.
He tasted of sweat and spunk and testosterone, those earthy notes pulling at me with sweet seduction as I went to town on him, clutching his hips to keep him still.
He tried to thrust, but I increased the strength of my hold and he whined.
The look of frustration on his face, warring with the bliss of having his dick sucked, entranced me.
He stilled and suffered while I went at him–licking and sucking him everywhere, my tongue dipping down to his balls and taint before running up the underside of his cock again.
He curled forward, fingers circling behind my head and pushing me forward gently. He was tired of being the passive one, and he let me know it by gripping my hair and controlling the movements of my head.
I growled and increased my sloppy, drooling attack, relishing the sounds that came from his parted lips—more urgent and breathless as he approached his climax.
Once I relaxed my grip on his hips, he began to fuck my face with abandon, holding my head still and pushing his cock to the back of my throat like I’d done to him moments ago.
Electric tingles coursed through me as I let him use me, until, with a cry, he stilled and emptied with a grunt. His grasp pulled at my scalp as I swallowed his release with satisfaction and triumph.
“Oh…my…fuck!” he gasped, his hold on my hair changing from a death grip to a caress as he came down from his ecstatic climax. I tightened my arms around his hips and sucked him through the waning of his orgasm until he squirmed and pushed me off.
“Stop. God, stop. Too much.”
I relinquished him with a sadness I felt to my toes because I knew the time we’d had together was about to run out. I lay my head on his thigh and closed my eyes, enjoying the feel of his fingers threading softly through my hair.
The bunkhouse was silent and still.
“Oliver,” he said, finally.
I looked up at him, my heart melting at how wrecked and serene he looked.
“Let’s go for a swim.”
I hadn’t expected him to say that. I thought he’d dismiss me with the excuse that the others would be back, and I’d have to leave out of politeness.
So I blinked in surprise and said, “Sure,” then stood shakily. I watched Puck pull on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, then slide into his flip-flops.
“I don’t have my suit,” I said.
“Good.” He winked. “’Cause I’m not bringing mine.”
I smiled, wondering what we’d do if any of the other guys decided a swim would be nice. But honestly, I didn’t care. We were at a kink ranch, for God’s sake. Pretty sure everyone could handle a couple of bare asses and some satisfied junk hanging out.
We got out of the bunkhouse before anyone returned from the main house.
Puck led me along another narrow trail through the woods, glancing back to make sure I was keeping up and, at one point, taking my hand to pull me gently along.
He seemed excited to show me the beach, where I hadn’t as yet spent any time.
I was simply happy to be with him.
“Come on. It’s not much farther.”
“Okay.”
I felt like I was at summer camp, following an enchanting new friend through the woods to a secret spot, where we would sit and speak about daring things and giggle at how dumb we thought the straight boys were—that surreptitious sense of sharing something private and exciting.
My friendships at camp had been innocent but intense, and I’d crushed on a few boys during those idylls.
Now I was an adult, following my newest crush along a forest path, after having gotten each other off in an empty bunkhouse on a pony-play ranch. The trees and insects were the only witnesses to our smug glances and secret smiles.
After a short time, we emerged to the wide expanse of the lake and a small strip of sand. The waning sun sparkled on the top of the water like diamonds.
There was a floating dock about twenty feet out. Puck was already taking off his clothes.
“Coming in?”
“Sure,” I said, getting naked and following Puck into the cool water.
He waded in up to his hips, then put his hands together and dived forward, swimming out to the dock with bold, sure strokes.
I followed.
Puck glanced behind him with a grin. “Come on, Oliver. Keep up, will you?”
I smiled as I went deeper, the sand on the bottom of the lake squishing between my toes. I was a city boy at heart and uneasy in open water. But the draw Puck had on me was strong, and I pushed past my discomfort and dived, swimming out to where he had pulled himself onto the floating platform.
If I’d needed motivation, the sight of Puck’s slim form as he heaved himself onto the undulating dock and stood, sleek muscles bunching and releasing, water sluicing off his skin, hair slicked to his head, was enough.
He turned, standing there like Michelangelo’s David, his cock flaccid for once, hands on his hips, self-satisfied look on his face, watching me.
“Oh, good, you can swim,” he said.
I gained the wooden edge of the platform and folded my arms, resting my chin on them, gazing up at him. Fuck. He was glorious.
He crouched down, unashamed of his nudity—bits dangling right in front of me—as he patted the top of my head and clicked his tongue. “You kept up. Now, are you staying in there, or coming out?”
“Coming out. The water’s cold.”
“Poor you. Come on, then.”
He stood and gave me room to haul myself up and onto the platform. Puck sat down beside me, and we dangled our legs in the water, gazing back at the shoreline.
“This is…something,” I said, gesturing around us. The evening chorus of birds and insects lulled my already relaxed brain into a state of pure contentment. The fact I had a gorgeous boy beside me who seemed to enjoy my company made my surroundings that much more special.
But now we weren’t actively trying to fuck each other—for the moment—there was a lull in conversation.
Then Puck said, “I came here to get away from it all.”
I glanced at him, observing a crease in his forehead before he looked away and scratched at a spot above his knee.
“Yeah?”
He glanced at me, assessing, maybe deciding if he wanted to continue—if he trusted me enough to share.
“Yeah.” He nodded. Then puffed a soft laugh. “I’m supposed to be in Munich.”
That was not what I had expected.
“What? Really?”
He swatted a fly away from his face. “I was supposed to go visit my brother. He’s a researcher at a hospital there.”
“Oh.” I waited for him to say something else. When he didn’t, I probed gently. “You didn’t want to go?”
He shook his head. “I needed to be…by myself. Well, not by myself, obviously,” he gestured at me. “But away from the people who know about everything.”
I nodded, not understanding yet, but to show I was here for him. Since we had no connection beyond the BCR, maybe he felt he could unburden himself. I didn’t know whether to ask for clarification or just be quiet. I chose the easier option. And, after a little while, he started speaking again.
“My best friend…he’s so pigheaded,” Puck said quietly, shaking his head in frustration.
“I told him the guy he was seeing was a dick, and he didn’t listen.
This boy he liked—the loser he was obsessed with—was using, and so fucking irresponsible.
I warned him, but he ignored me. He thought I was jealous or something, which is really turned around. ”
I listened to the hum of cicadas and the occasional call of a loon while I sat there, a listening ear for whatever he wanted to get off his chest.
“Fucker crashed the car they were in. This boy, this stupid, fucking kid, was on a cocktail of drugs and crashed the car, killing himself and landing my best friend in the hospital, fighting for his life.”
“Oh shit. That’s terrible.” My words sounded so ineffectual, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say. “Is your friend…is he all right?”
“Depends on your definition of all right.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, everybody’s sorry. Doesn’t help.”
“Aw, Puck. Jesus.”
“Just let me talk. I haven’t talked about any of this. And I think I need to.”